


Jailbreak

by felisnocturna



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872, Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisnocturna/pseuds/felisnocturna
Summary: Steve, recently returned to his Sheriff duties after recovering from a nearly fatal gunshot wound, is hoping for a quiet christmas eve. Thanks to one Tony Stark, things don't go quite the way he expected.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	Jailbreak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> For the following community prompt: "Blacksmith Tony Stark gets arrested and detained overnight for public drunkenness by Sheriff Steve Rogers on Christmas Eve."

Steve was walking quickly through a thin flurry of snow. He'd been at the saloon to make sure that no drunk stragglers were upset by the christmas eve closing time, when his deputy had stuck his head through the door:

"Finished my circuit around town, Sheriff. All quiet except for Stark. Guy's sitting on the office steps, drinking and singing and creating a bit of a ruckus. Some people complained about the noise. He didn't want to listen to me, though, so I told him I'd come get you."

Steve could have sworn that Red Wolf's was suppressing a grin. He sighed.

"All right, I'll take care of him. Head on home."

Hunching his shoulders against the wind, Steve pretended the twinge in his chest was a remnant of his healed injuries and had nothing to do with the fact that Tony had gotten drunk again and was sitting out in the freezing cold, disrupting the town's quiet night. It wasn't exactly common knowledge yet, but because Tony'd had his share in helping Steve while he recovered from his chest wound, Steve was aware that he'd made an effort to stay sober ever since he'd debuted his Iron Man armor earlier in the year. (Ever since Steve had been shot.) And while there'd been a few set-backs, he hadn't ended up on the steps of the Sheriff's office again. Until today.

Now close to his office, he could hear Tony's singing, which was not nearly as loud as he'd feared. (And if there was a fleeting thought of "I've missed his singing voice" in the back of his head, he did his level best to ignore it).

"O Come All Ye Faithful, Joyful and -- Sheriff!"

Tony grinned a too big grin at him, waving a half-full bottle around and almost spilling its contents. He was wearing neither coat nor hat nor any other kind of warm clothing and had to be half-frozen by now.

"Come to take me home and tuck me in?"

Steve considered for a few seconds. He could do just that, but there was no guarantee that Tony would stay put, and given the combination of drunkenness and cold, Steve would much rather keep an eye on him for a while. It wasn't like he'd had any further plans for the evening, so a late night watching over - a hopefully sleeping - Tony in his office sounded just fine.

"I don't think so, Stark," he replied. "You've earned yourself a night in the cell to sober up."

Extending a hand, he hauled Tony to his feet, half-carrying him through the door and into the cell when he seemed too unsteady on his feet to walk on his own. He deposited him on the cot in the corner. In the sudden warmth of the room, Tony sagged like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes closing, and weakly patted Steve's thigh, murmuring something unintelligible.

Steve looked at him closely for a moment, ignoring the tingling where Tony had touched his leg. Snow crystals were melting in Tony’s tousled hair and on his clothes, his nose and hands were bright red. Carefully, he touched Tony’s cheek to assess his temperature and to his relief, it was not half as freezing as he'd feared. Tony would be okay in the warm office, but maybe he should still get him a blanket.

Before Steve could act on that thought, though, there was a knock on the door and Mayor Danvers asking for his help. He hung his head, then took a deep breath. With a last look at Tony, who seemed to be dead to the world, he left, locking the cell door behind him as a precaution.

\--

As soon as he heard the outer door close, Tony carefully opened one eye to make sure Steve had really left, then jumped up. No time to lose. (No time to linger on the memory of his touch either.) Smiling a little, he quickly took care of the lock on the cell door and then tugged a big wooden box from underneath the cot, where - with Red Wolf's help - he'd hidden it just an hour earlier.

He opened the lid and got to work.

\--

Once again stomping through the wintry weather towards his office, Steve tried not to grumble to himself. In his opinion, none of the Mayor's questions about festivity clean-up and possible hazards couldn't have waited until after christmas. The snowfall had picked up a bit, and Steve squinted in the darkness. There were only a few lights still illuminating the town; it had to be almost midnight.

Freezing and hungry, Steve finally reached his office and opened the door, then stopped in his tracks.

Judging by the amount of warmth it was giving off, the fire in his stove had been stoked, and a small pot and two mugs had been placed on top, neither of which had been there when he'd left. Strings of electrical lights were draped across the walls and the bars of the jail cell, looking like tendrils of fire, and there was soft music playing from a device in the corner - like the lights, it was connected to a softly glowing blue circle. All of it had to be Tony's invention, even though Steve had never seen it before. The smell of spicy stew reached his nose and made his stomach grumble even before he registered the big, steaming pot and the two bowls on his desk. And was that a loaf of gingerbread next to it?

"Close the door, you're letting all the warmth out!" Tony called from where he was sitting cross-legged on his cot, back leaning against the wall. Steve's gaze snapped towards him, noticing a small smile on Tony's face, but no signs of drunkenness or cold. His clear eyes were focused intently on Steve.

Following the instruction by rote, Steve kept looking around. A couple of metal ornaments caught his eye, decorating his bookcase and glimmering in the lights: white stars and red ... were those miniature versions of the Iron Man mask? Steve had seen it only briefly so far, unmoving and dark in Tony's workshop. (Being unconscious and half-dead for days had kept him from seeing it in action and so he'd only heard the tale of it much later, told in multiple colourful versions by his fellow townspeople.)

"I - what - did you do all this?" Trying to get his brain back into gear, Steve busied himself with getting rid of his snowy winter gear.

"Well, I didn't cook the food myself," Tony answered, "bought it from Maneeba Khan's new business. And I used your chopped wood for the stove. Everything else, you can blame on me."

Standing up, he took something wrapped in brown paper from the cot, movements slightly hesitant for the first time and betraying a nervousness that Steve had never seen in him before. When he opened the closed cell door, he shot Steve a quick, lopsided smile, earning him a raised eyebrow in return. He stepped out of the cell and placed the package on Steve's desk, next to the prepared food.

"Merry Christmas, Sheriff."

Caught off guard by the unexpectedness of the scene and by the warmth spreading through his chest, Steve uncharacteristically hesitated over his answer for a moment, causing Tony to take a step backwards, mouth twisting uncertainly. This finally spurred him into action.

"Steve," he said. "Call me Steve, please."

Tony broke into a grin. "Sure thing. Steve."

\--

"So Mayor Danvers was in on the plan I take it?" Steve asked a little while later, when they were comfortably settled and digging into their stew.

Tony laughed lightly. "You got me. I owe her some metal and electricity work for the town now. Oh, and Red Wolf reserved the right to call in his favour at some unspecified point in the future."

Steve smiled to himself. It finally felt like they were building something here, everyone together, instead of just holding the line against entropy and darkness. (Not that the latter wasn't important. Steve had been sure of that as long as he could remember, and he'd almost died for it. But Tony in the middle of things made the world seem right in a way it hadn't before; like there was a future in his reach.)

\--

"It's a thin, flexible metal mesh, covered in leather," Tony explained while they were taking a break between stew and dessert. Steve had just unwrapped his present and uncovered what looked like a brand-new vest, a bit heavier than normal. "Should stop bullets."

At that, Steve looked up sharply and caught Tony's gaze.

"I'm still here," he said in a low voice, a weak phantom twinge in his chest.

Tony reached out and laid a hand over the place where the bullet had left Steve's body. "No thanks to me," he whispered, and before Steve could figure out how to answer that, he continued: "I wish I could make you an armor, too. Bruce might be all out of miracles by now." His face turned thoughtful. "Or maybe a shield?" He nodded to himself. "Yeah, I could do that." He grinned. "With a star on it."

\--

Two o'clock found them sitting companionably in front of the now open stove, feet extended towards the warmth and faces illuminated by the glowing ambers. The pot of hot chocolate had been emptied, but Tony was still cradling his mug between his hands, while Steve was chewing on a last piece of gingerbread, filled with nuts and dried fruit and spices. They both seemed loath to end the night.

"I thought about inviting you for christmas," Steve said suddenly.

Tony looked over, eyes shining in the low light. "Why didn't you?"

"Wasn't sure if I was reading you right."

Tony set down the mug and turned his whole body towards Steve. "You were."

Steve smiled a little. "I haven't even told you what I thought I was reading."

"Well, let's just say, there's no need to put me in a jail cell if you want to keep me." Tony's voice wavered slightly on the last words, but he kept his eyes on Steve's. 

Gently, Steve cupped Tony's neck with his hand. "I do," he replied. Leaning in for a kiss, he suddenly remembered something he'd forgotten to say earlier.

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

\--

A couple minutes later, Steve had to stifle a yawn and Tony pulled back with a light laugh. 

"Should we relocate to the cot in the back before we fall off these chairs?"

Steve stood and pulled Tony up after him. "I have a perfectly good bed upstairs. As you said, there's really no need to spend christmas night in a jail cell." 


End file.
